The Fine Line
by JBS-Forever
Summary: (Sequel to Kidnapped.) Ponyboy's recovery takes a turn for the worse when the lines of reality and nightmares begin to blur. Darry and Sodapop must help him before he completely loses all sense of reality, but how can you save someone from themselves?
1. Chapter 1

**Welp, here it is. The new sequel to "Kidnapped." **

**You know the drill: If you haven't read "Kidnapped," you probably should, cause you might be confused. If you decide not to, that's cool, too. I can't control you.**

**Here's to hoping this one turns out better than the last attempt of making a sequel. I am gonna recycle and reuse a few ideas, so you'll recognize some stuff if you read the last one before it was deleted.**

**Anyway, enough from me. Here we go. *fingers crossed***

**Enjoy!**

**.**

**.**

"Why're you doing this to me?" I whisper. The Soc closest to me doesn't look my way. It's getting dark in the warehouse, but I can still make out the outline of his face. I pull on my wrists, trying to wiggle them free of their restraints. They don't move. No one answers my question.

The Socs by the door are whispering to each other, but I can't make out what's being said. Jay isn't here. He's the only one who keeps me safe, makes sure the Socs don't kill me. He isn't here.

"Please," I beg, choking on a sob. This time the guy looks at me. His eyes are empty, void of any kind of emotion. He doesn't say anything, but he moves closer to the edge of the bed where my legs are tied. My broken one is throbbing, and I can only pray he won't touch it.

He looks up at me slowly. "You never really liked this leg, did you?"

I can feel my pulse in each of my fingers. I pull desperately on my hands again. "Please," I choke. "Don't."

"Hmm." His expression turns thoughtful. He glances at my leg and back to my eyes. "I've always wondered how hard it is to cut through bone."

I sob, swallowing back a scream that's rising in my throat.

"Ponyboy?"

Through teary eyes, I look over at the door as Sodapop enters. He glances at the Socs in confusion, stepping over the scattered debris on the floor, before his eyes fall back on me.

"Ponyboy, what's wrong?"

The Soc by my leg winks and then starts to disappear. The warehouse colors bleed together and fade until they are replaced by the familiar walls of my room. In my house. Where I am. Back on my bed, arms and legs free of their restraints.

And Sodapop is standing close to me, looking at me in concern.

I sigh in relief and push myself up, rubbing my eyes to get rid of the tears. Sodapop sits on the edge of the bed.

"Pone, what is it?"

I wonder how long my eyes have been open. If Sodapop walked in to find me just lying there, crying. Or was I sobbing? I'm not sure.

"Just a bad dream," I mutter, but my voice is hoarse and watery, betraying me. Sodapop rubs the back of my head.

"You wanna talk about it?" he asks gently.

"Not really." I sigh, sniffing back my tears. My eyes feel puffy and I hope they aren't as red as I think they are. Sodapop looks at me compassionately.

"Okay, kiddo," he says. "Come get some breakfast. I cooked."

"Oh great," I moan. He chuckles.

"Don't worry, Darry would only let me make the eggs."

"Smart man," I say, untangling my legs from the blankets and rolling out of bed. My cast collides with the ground, causing a loud _thump_. Soda rolls his eyes.

"You know, tons of people would kill for me to cook for them," he says. I shake my head.

"No, Soda, tons of people _are_ killed because you cooked for them."

He grabs a pillow off the bed and throws it at me. I catch it as he grins and then hurries out of the room.

"Ponyboy says I can eat his eggs!" he yells as he rushes down the hall. I toss the pillow back onto the bed and run a hand through my hair. There's a pain radiating in my temples, starting to annoy me. I go to my nightstand and grab a bottle of Aspirin from the drawer, downing a couple of pills quickly.

I hear a loud slam and then someone is running down the hall.

"Two-Bit!" Darry yells, but Two-Bit is already at my door.

"Get up!" he shouts, even though he can clearly see me standing, fully awake. I raise my eyebrows at him.

"Did someone give you a bunch of sugar or something?" I ask, walking over to the dresser. I find a shirt and pull it over my head. "It's too early for you to be this excited."

"Aw, is someone being grumpy?" he teases, crossing the room to pinch my cheeks. I swat his hand away and grab a pair of jeans from the pile of clothes on the floor.

"I'm not grumpy."

"Sure you're not."

It takes me a few minutes to get my cast through the leg hole of my pants and Two-Bit gets bored waiting, deciding to run back down the hall instead. Another moment later, I hear him and Steve grunting and something that sounds an awful lot like the lamp shatters.

"Damn it, Steve!" Darry yells.

"It was Two-Bit!" Steve complains. "He wouldn't say 'mercy.'"

"Well you'd both better hope that I have some mercy to spare. Stop breaking my house."

I roll my eyes. Leaving my room, I head down the hall and duck into the bathroom to check my hair. Today it has managed to stay pretty calm. I don't need much grease to tame it. It's lucky for me, because the less time I need to look in the mirror, the better.

"Pone!" There's a knocking at the bathroom door. "Let me in, I need to shave!"

I open the door and step back as Sodapop slides in. Moving out of his way, I sit on the edge of the tub and watch him smear shaving cream all over his face. Even when he looks goofy, he still looks like a movie star. I smile to myself and he catches me in the mirror, giving me a grin.

"You okay?" he asks. I nod, rising to my feet. Weeks ago, I never thought I'd see Soda again. I would have given anything to see his smile, hear his laugh. Even eat the food he cooks and turns different color. I missed all the little things–things like watching Soda shave and feeling jealous because I haven't gotten any facial hair yet. I don't feel jealous anymore. I just like to watch him– to watch everyone really. It reminds me that I'm alive.

I leave the bathroom and head into the living room where Steve and Two-Bit are wrestling again. The TV is on and the stereo is blaring, but I can still hear Darry muttering angrily in the kitchen. The lamp is gone.

"Hey!" Two-Bit shouts, and wrestles free from Steve's grip to come over and wrap me in one of his own. "Say 'mercy!'"

"Never!" I growl, trying to pry myself free so I can get him in a choke hold. He flips me around to pin one of my arms behind my back, laughing. I faintly hear Darry telling him to stop, but I ignore it. It's been nearly two weeks since Jay drugged me and took me back to his house. Darry has been way too overprotective since then.

But then I wonder if there's another reason he is trying to get Two-Bit to stop, because there's a rumbling sound that's growing louder in my ears. I don't know what it is, if anyone else can hear it or not, but before I can question it, everything goes black.

I'm in and out of a new scene. People are yelling. Someone is pulling my hands together, pushing tape over my mouth.

I'm being carried.

I'm in a trunk.

A boy is saying something to me, something that I can't make out, and then I'm submerged into darkness.

"Ponyboy, wake up," a voice says gently.

Someone is running a hand through my hair. I'm lying flat on the ground, no longer in the trunk, no longer tied up. The hand moves to my forehead and cheek and the voice urges me again to come back to reality.

I open my eyes.

It takes a minute for my vision to clear, but when it does, I discover that Sodapop and Darry are hovering above me, their faces etched with concern. Two-Bit and Steve are a step behind them.

"Are you okay?" Soda asks. I look at him in a daze. Nothing seems to be moving in the right speed. I can't make my brain work, can't come up with a reason how I ended up on the floor, or what I was even doing before this.

"What happened?" I ask.

"You passed out," Darry says, the words not matching up with his mouth. "Do you feel all right?"

"I…I don't know." I sit up slowly, feeling woozy. Darry rests a steady hand on my shoulder.

"Soda, go call his doctor," he says, but I shake my head.

"Don't," I say. "I'm okay. And it's Saturday, he ain't working."

"He knows the day," Soda says. "That should be a good sign."

Steve smacks him across the back of the head. "We're not checking for head injuries, Soda. Two-Bit caught him before he hit the ground."

I give Two-Bit a quick glance. "Gee, thanks, Two-Bit," I mutter.

He doesn't say anything. Or if he does, I don't hear it. Something is ringing in my ears, and the pain in my temples is getting worse. I wince and rub my eyes.

"Here, let's get you up," Darry says. He grabs me under my arms and pulls me to my feet. It doesn't matter how gently he tries to handle me lately, the motion still makes my stomach churn. I gag and stumble back.

"Ponyboy?"

"I think I'm gonna be sick," I say weakly, pushing away from everyone's hands and limping quickly to the bathroom. I drop down on my knees in front of the toilet just in time.

There's something worse about throwing up on an empty stomach than there is after you've eaten something. The yellow bile burns coming up my throat, and somehow it finds a neat way to come out of my nose as well. Fortunately, it doesn't last long, and after a minute I'm left with only watery eyes and the feeling of Sodapop's hand rubbing my back.

"Gross," I moan. Sodapop hands me a washcloth and I use it to wipe up my face. I think that everyone is standing at the door watching me, but I can't look. My cheeks are burning.

"C'mon," Soda says, helping me to my feet. I resist the urge to collapse and follow him out of the bathroom. No one but Darry is in the doorway. Two-Bit is sitting on the couch, biting his thumbnail, and I don't know where Steve is.

"Why don't you go lay down, Ponyboy?" Darry says. I shake my head warily.

"I'm all right."

"Yeah, that wasn't really a suggestion," he says. "Go."

I roll my eyes and break away from Sodapop before heading down the hall. I'm kind of glad Darry didn't really believe me, because I'm really starting to not feel well. But I'm really tired of sleeping all the time. It's really a conflicting kind of problem.

Everyone is talking in the living room and it's too loud for my liking, so I close my door behind me and get ready to crawl into bed. But something behind the door catches my eye and I freeze.

Someone is standing in my room.

"Hello, Ponyboy."

I turn slowly, feeling my heart ache on the next beat. My hands are shaking. The person in my room is a Soc. The one from my dream. The one who twisted my broken leg in the warehouse.

I open my mouth, but no words come out. The Soc grins evilly and takes a step forward.

"D-Darry," I whisper hoarsely.

"Ah, ah, kid," the Soc says. "Let's not make this worse."

I step back as he steps forward again. I think about running, getting to the hall where the gang can protect me, but I can't make my feet move. Can't make my voice come out.

"You know, leaving your window unlocked isn't really a smart idea," the Soc says, and then he lunges toward me.

I duck out of the way and he collides into my nightstand, knocking over the desk lamp. It hits the ground with a loud crash and I leap for the door.

"DARRY!"

I can hear Darry thundering down the hall, his footsteps loud and frantic. I turn back to where the Soc was before, but he's not there anymore. He's not anywhere.

My door opens and slams into the wall from the force.

"Ponyboy, what's wrong?" Darry asks urgently. I stare at the window, gaping.

"I–I…" Tears fill my eyes and I turn back to Darry numbly. He's looking at my broken lamp in concern.

"Ponyboy?"

I sink down on the bed, staring at the floor in disbelief. He was here. That Soc was here.

Wasn't he?


	2. Chapter 2

**So glad you guys are liking this one more than the last one! I like it a lot better.**

**Also, to clarify, when the X's are in the center of the page, it means the viewpoint switches. When they are on the side, it's the same viewpoint, only at a later time. **

**I think I mentioned this before in the last story, but I'm not sure. I know it gets confusing.**

**Enjoy!**

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**.**

I cry.

I cry because really, that's all I want to do. And I can't help it.

Two-Bit and Steve search for the Soc that I saw, but I'm not sure if he was real or not. The lamp is really broken, and my window is really unlocked. He could've gone out that window when I turned to yell for Darry. It's possible…I think.

"Are you sure?" Darry asks again, because he doesn't believe me. Doesn't want to believe me. I rub my eyes and shake my head. Darry is pacing back and forth, but Sodapop is sitting calmly beside me on the bed. It's weird when they switch roles. Sodapop is usually the one who is always moving.

I shove my hands between my knees and look at the floor. I feel ridiculous just sitting here and crying, but I really can't help it. It seemed so real.

"Take it easy, Pone," Sodapop says, patting my leg. I sniff back tears.

"Do you know who it was?" Darry asks.

"No," I whisper. "I don't even know if he was here, Darry…"

"I know, but if he was, it'd be good to know who he is."

I collapse back on the bed, throwing my arms over my eyes. "I don't know who he is."

The door slams closed at the front of the house and I hear Two-Bit enter a moment later. "We didn't find him."

"Of course you didn't," I mutter. A tense silence falls over us. I don't want to look at everyone, cause I know what they're thinking. I'm losing my mind.

"Can everyone leave for a minute?" Darry asks. "I need to talk to Ponyboy. Alone."

There's such finality in his tone that no one can argue. Sodapop pats my leg again and then I feel the bed rise as he gets to his feet. He mutters something to Darry as he passes them and then I hear my door close quietly. I cautiously lower my arms and push myself up as Darry sits down next to me.

He sighs. "Ponyboy."

"I know," I say, licking my dry lips. The tears spill over them. "I know."

"Do you think it was real?" he asks. "You've had this happen before, but you were able to tell afterwards if it was real."

I shake my head. "I don't know. It doesn't feel like it did before. I really thought he was here. The window…and the lamp…I just…"

"I know," Darry says. He drums his fingers on his thigh, taking a deep breath. I rub my eyes.

"Darry?"

"Yeah, kiddo?"

"Do you think I'm losing my mind?"

His fingers stop. He reaches for a moment like he wants to touch me, but isn't sure exactly what he should do. He finally just rests his hand on my shoulder and gives it a reassuring squeeze.

But he doesn't answer my question, and that only makes me more nervous. He leaves me to rest, and I curl up on the bed and cry until I can't keep my eyes open anymore.

XxX

It's hours later when Sodapop corners me in the kitchen.

"Do you?" he asks me. "Do you think he's going crazy, Dar?"

"No," I say, closing the refrigerator door. I set the milk on the counter and try to find something to measure with. Sodapop hovers in the entryway, looking nervous.

"So then you think someone broke into the house? We should call the fuzz."

"I don't think someone broke into the house."

"But you said–"

"I said I don't think he's going crazy," I say, turning back to look at him. "But that doesn't mean he didn't imagine it."

A line appears between Sodapop's eyebrows. "I…"

I sigh. "Look, Soda. The doc told us when we started Ponyboy into therapy that it could take a while for changes to happen. We just gotta give him time. He's healing. He went through something unimaginable. No one is just gonna be okay after something like that."

"I know," Soda says, looking at the ground. "But…"

He doesn't pick up where he trails off. "But what?"

"He's scaring me," Soda whispers. I sigh again.

"I know," I say gently. "I know, Soda."

XxX

I check on Ponyboy sometime close to when our meal is done. He's sound asleep, curled up on his side, tear tracks still resting on his cheeks. His chest rises and falls gently and I hope that he's peaceful in sleep. Ponyboy rarely gets peace anymore.

But I do want him to eat, so as much as I regret it, I wake him up.

He comes back to reality in a slow and heavy process. He's still half asleep as he stumbles out into the hall after me, going to the table. It's warm in the house, and I know that's making it worse for him. Sodapop helps me set the plates and bring the food out, and Ponyboy scrubs his eyes, but doesn't seem to get rid of the sleepiness.

He rests his elbow on the counter and his cheek against his hand. He listens to me and Sodapop talk and I cast glances at him every few minutes. He's falling fast, and it's pretty amusing. His eyes droop closed and he snaps them open quickly, blinking a few times to bring himself back. He stares at his food for a few seconds before he begins to drift again, repeating the process.

Finally his eyes close and don't open. Sodapop chuckles and throws a piece of bread at him. Ponyboy jumps awake.

"Soda," he moans, rubbing his eyes. Sodapop grins.

"Sorry, Pone. You were falling asleep at the table," he says. "You should go back to your bed."

Ponyboy shoots Sodapop a tired glare, but rises to his feet. He mutters something that we can't understand and then leaves the room.

"You think he's okay?" Soda asks quietly. I sigh.

"I hope so, Soda. I hope so."

XxX

I sleep solidly for a long time. I think I must sleep through dinner, because the next time I wake it's to Soda climbing into bed. It's dark outside, and getting woken up reminds me that I have been holding fluids for far too long.

I get out of bed, alerting Sodapop.

"You okay?" he asks. I stumble through the darkness.

"I'm just going pee, Soda," I say. "Jeez."

He chuckles. "Have fun."

The lights are on in the living room, so when I get to the hallway I can see again. I duck into the bathroom to relieve myself and then go to turn the lights off, but I'm taken by surprise when I find Darry sitting in his chair, reading the newspaper.

"Darry?" I ask. He lowers the paper to look at me.

"Hey," he says. "You all right?"

"Yeah." I walk over and plop down on the couch, pulling my a leg under me. "Why're you up so late?"

He shrugs. "Can't sleep, I guess. You feeling okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay." I sigh, rubbing my eyes.

Darry nods and goes back to reading the paper. A silence falls over us. The living room is warm and it makes me feel sleepy again, but I don't think I'll be able to close my eyes. Now that I'm actually awake, I start thinking about earlier. Start wondering if that Soc was really here. And if he wasn't, what does that mean for me?

"What's wrong?" Darry's voice floats around me. I don't look up.

"What am I supposed to do?" I ask quietly, miserably.

"What do you mean?"

"If that Soc wasn't here," I say, studying my hands. "If I really am losing my mind."

Darry sighs and folds up the newspaper. "You're not losing your mind, Pone."

I look up at him. "How do you know?"

"You haven't been home that long," he says. "You went through some pretty terrible stuff. You just need time. Deborah will help you."

"What if she can't?" I ask, feeling tears spring into my eyes. "What do I do if–"

"Pone, Pone." Darry rises to his feet and comes over to sit next to me. He rests a hand on my shoulder. "Listen to me. You're gonna be okay. Everything is gonna be okay."

I blink and the tears fall. "Do you promise?"

Darry pulls me into a one arm hug. "I promise."

XxX

I go back to my room after sitting with Darry for a while. Convinced that maybe I'm not losing my mind, I climb into bed with Sodapop and snuggle close, but a strong smell of copper hits my nose.

With a frown, I push myself up on my elbows and squint through the dark, trying to figure out what's causing the smell. I'd leave it alone, but it's so strong that my nose is burning.

"Soda," I whisper. He doesn't move. I shake his shoulder once, calling his name again.

"Sodapop."

But he's dead to the world. Sighing, I get up from the bed and cross the room, flipping the light on. I turn back and jump in surprise.

Blood is pouring from Sodapop's nose, trailing down his neck and pooling into the material of his shirt. I realize it isn't copper I was smelling at all, and I hurry back over to him, trying to shake him awake.

"Soda!"

He's not moving. It isn't normal. Sodapop is a heavy sleeper, but not this heavy. I shake him again, desperately, and nothing happens. His hand falls off the side of the bed limply.

"Darry!" I yell. "Help!"

But Darry doesn't come. I wonder if maybe he didn't hear me, so I run to the door and yank it open.

The moment I do, the scenery around me changes. I'm not greeted by the hallway, I'm greeted by a long pathway covered in leaves, surrounded by trees. Panic and confusion overwhelm my senses and I glance back into my room, which still looks the same.

I know I should stay where everything is familiar, but I need to get help for Sodapop, so I step cautiously onto the pathway.

I'm outside in somewhere that looks like a forest. Light peaks through the branches of trees and I walk slowly, feeling leaves and twigs crunch under my bare feet. My–_wait_. Both of my feet are bare. The heavy cast that I've grown accustomed to feeling is no longer there. I know this must be a dream.

Something snaps behind me and I spin on my heels.

"Darry?" I ask stupidly. A dark flash disappears behind a tree, and I know that it's not Darry. Darry wouldn't hide from me.

I start walking again, this time more quickly, and hear the person behind me. They are matching my speed, following close. My heart starts pounding in my head and fear takes over.

I run.

"Wake up, Ponyboy," I tell myself. "Wake up!"

The person is chasing me. I weave through the trees, ducking low to avoid branches. This is all too familiar. I know this dream.

"Wake up!" I yell. "Wake up, wake up, wake up!"

And then it happens, just like it always happens. My foot slides under something and catches me. I close my eyes and go crashing towards the ground, but before I can hear the familiar snap of my leg breaking, I'm colliding with something soft and damp.

This isn't right.

Slowly, I peel open my eyes. It's dark around me, the only source of light coming from a street lamp somewhere right out of my vision. The wet grass beneath me tickles my nose and I push myself up enough to look around.

I'm in the backyard. _My_ backyard. And my leg is heavy with the familiar weight of my cast.

And I'm not dreaming anymore. I'm really here, outside my house, with no recollection of how I got out here.

"Oh, what the hell?" I moan, collapsing back down again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Woo, long chapter for ya. **

**I stole part of the original section from the first version of this story where Ponyboy gets his cast off, so it might sound familiar.**

**Sorry for the wait, but thanks for the reviews :)**

**Enjoy!**

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"Take your shirt off, it's soaking."

"I'll get him a blanket."

"Sit down, don't move. Let me get a towel."

Darry's mumbling to himself as he comes back and starts scrubbing my head, trying to dry my hair. My teeth are chattering in my head and no matter how tight I wrap my arms around myself, without a shirt on, I'm freezing. I fidget uncomfortably.

"You're gonna get pneumonia," Darry mutters. "Be still, Ponyboy."

Sodapop rushes back toward us with a pile of blankets. He drops all but one of them on the floor once he gets to the couch and wraps the remaining one around me, rubbing my arms over the material. I pull the blanket tight around myself and Sodapop sits next to me, slinging an arm around my shoulder. I lean in close to him.

"How long were you out there?" he asks. "I didn't even notice you got up."

"I d-dunno," I say. Darry rubs my head with the towel again and rips it away, tossing it on the floor.

"I'm gonna get you something warm to drink," he says before he disappears off into the kitchen. I lay my head on Sodapop's shoulder as I shiver.

"Are you okay, Pone?" Soda asks gently. I nod. The heat from his body is already beginning to warm me, but it's not moving fast enough. He rubs my arms again.

I can hear Darry in the kitchen fumbling with something loudly. He's not mumbling anymore, but everything he touches seems to slip out of his grip, crashing onto the countertop and floor with loud bangs. He finally tosses whatever he's holding and turns on the sink faucet.

"Why's he mad?" I ask. I pull away from Sodapop for a brief moment to grab another blanket and drape it over my legs.

"He ain't mad," Soda says. I close my eyes and snuggle back into his warmth.

"He sounds mad."

"He's just worried."

"His worried sounds a lot like mad," I mutter. Sodapop chuckles.

"Shut up, will ya?"

I smile. The combination of blankets and being so close to Sodapop is starting to send heat through my limbs. We fall into silence, and I'm not sure how long we stay like that until Darry comes back into the room. He taps on my leg.

"Here, Pone."

I open my eyes to see him extending a mug of something to me. I take it from him carefully and bring it to my lips.

"It's not very hot," Darry says. "I couldn't get that damn teapot to work."

"Did you put water in it?" Sodapop asks. Darry shoots him a glare.

"I'll beat you, Sodapop."

I breathe out a laugh and take a sip of the liquid. It's not hot, just like Darry said, but it sends a tingling feeling through my stomach.

After a few more sips, I'm overwhelmed with sleepiness. The mug feels heavy in my hands, and I can hear Darry talking, but I'm not sure if it's to me or to Sodapop. My eyelids droop close tiredly.

I think I refuse to let Darry carry me back to my room, because I faintly recall both him and Sodapop trying to help drag me down the hall.

It's the last thing I remember before submerging into blackness.

XxX

When I wake again, it's warm in the house, I've kicked all my covers off, and everything is quiet. No stereo, no TV, no people wrestling in the living room. I hate when this house is quiet. It makes me uneasy.

I sit up and rub my eyes. Sodapop isn't in bed beside me. I can't hear him anywhere, and you can almost always hear Sodapop if he's in the house.

Sliding out of bed, I trip over my blankets on the floor and nearly go crashing to the ground. With I swear, I untangle myself and find a pair of sweats in the mountain of clothes Sodapop and I have created on the floor. I think Darry may have given up on trying to get us to clean anything.

"Soda?" I call, stumbling as I step into my sweats and head into the hallway. He's not in the living room, but I can hear noises coming from outside.

"Must be in the garage," I mutter. I don't feel like grabbing my crutches, so I slide on a shoe and step out into a wave of heat. Hot days and cold nights. There's no temperature this time of year that seems to work for me.

Soda's underneath the run-down car he's been trying to fix up when I get to the garage. I haven't seen him work out here in a while. Not since before this whole warehouse thing happened. I think he's been too anxious to sit still long enough to work on something, even if his hands would be constantly moving.

"Hi, Soda," I greet as I sit down on one of the benches. He slides out from under the car and sits up.

"Hey, Pone," he says, wiping his hands on a rag. He glances to the wall and back to me. "Did you just get up?"

I nod, rubbing my eyes. "Why?"

His eyebrows furrow together ever-so-slightly as he looks at me, but he shakes his head and rises to his feet. "No reason."

I wonder what time it is. I watch Soda move around the small space. "Hey, where is everyone?"

"Steve got called in to work overtime. I'm not sure where Two-Bit is. No doubt stirring up trouble somewhere."

I chuckle. "Where's Darry?

"He's sleeping, I think."

"Why's he sleeping?" I ask, frowning. "Is he sick?"

"Yeah, kind of," Sodapop says. "He hasn't been feeling good."

I feel my heart ache on the next beat. "Because of me?" I breathe.

Sodapop goes tense. He pulls in a deep sigh and turns toward me. "Don't do that, Ponyboy."

"Do what?" I ask defensively, but tears are already prickling my eyes. Sodapop looks at me for a long moment before he sighs again and comes to kneel in front of me.

"You know what I'm talking about," he says. "Darry's just a little stressed and hasn't been sleeping good. It ain't your fault."

I shove my hands between my knees and glare at the ground. "You don't understand, Sodapop."

Sodapop squeezes my leg and stands again. He heads back to his pile of tools and starts digging around in them. "I understand more than you think."

"You're not the one who caused all his stress," I say, blinking back tears. "You're not the reason he's feeling this way. How can you understand, Soda?"

"Because I was here when you weren't," he says.

I feel like the air has been knocked out of me. I look up, but Sodapop has his back turned so I can't see his face. I gape at him numbly for a moment. I had imagined, once, what it was like for Darry and Soda while I was gone. What they were going through, what they were thinking, how they were acting. Darry had been upset enough when I ran away. The pain he must have endured when he didn't know if I was alive or not…

"All I'm saying, Ponyboy, is you're not the reason Darry is stressed," Soda says, bringing air back to my lungs. "The Socs are the reason. The people who hurt you are. And Darry is just trying to pick up the pieces now."

I nod mutely and look down at my hands. _Don't think about it_, I tell myself, _it's over and done._

"Don't be upset, Ponyboy," Sodapop says gently.

"I'm not upset."

"Sure you're not."

"Shut up," I mutter, rising to my feet. Sodapop chuckles and throws a rag at me.

"Hey, just relax a little, okay? Everything is fine."

"Hmm." I throw the rag back at him. "Helpful advice, Soda. Remind me to write that down."

Soda grins.

Darry isn't sleeping when I come back into the house. He's in the kitchen, and when I stumble in panting from the heat, he makes me sit down and gets me a glass of water.

I ask him how he's feeling and he gives me a funny look.

"I'm fine," he says cautiously. "Just needed to catch up on a little sleep."

He changes the subject quickly and reminds me I have an appointment to get my cast off tomorrow. The news makes me more terrified than it should. The cast is how I tell when I'm back in reality and not in a dream. If I don't have the cast in real life, I won't be able to tell what's true.

A feeling of dread rises in my stomach. Tomorrow might be the day I lose all sense of reality.

XxX

Monday morning rolls around and I wake Ponyboy far earlier than his alarm clock or Sodapop ever would. Our appointment is early, and no matter how much time I allow to get either of my brothers up for anything, we're always late.

I expect Ponyboy to be excited, but he's not. Anxious energy is pouring so strongly off him it's actually making me nervous. I ditch my attempt to make breakfast and decide to take him out to a restaurant, hoping to ease some of his distress.

He's tired and doesn't speak much, even after we arrive and order our meals. His hands are either rubbing his eyes or drumming nervously on whatever he can reach, and his knee bounces up and down quickly under the table.

"Are you nervous?" I ask, just because I want him to actually say something. He nods.

"A little."

"A little?" I say incredulously. "Ponyboy, you're making _me_ nervous with how nervous you are."

Ponyboy looks up and gives me a small smile.

Our food arrives quickly, and just like I thought, Ponyboy barely eats any of it. We pile it into a to-go box and pack it up when we leave. I know Ponyboy probably won't eat it, but Sodapop will, and there's really not need to waste food.

For the first time, we aren't late when we arrive at the hospital. Ponyboy leads me up to where the new Orthopaedic department is. Sodapop took him to his last appointment, so it's unfamiliar territory to me.

The lady at the front desk is nice. She recognizes Ponyboy and greets him when he walks in. He calls her by first name and then they start talking as if they've been friends for years. Ponyboy asks about her dog and how things with her husband are going. She asks how he's doing and then gives me a "hello," before saying something to Ponyboy like, "That must be Darry." I cock an eyebrow at the interaction, but don't say anything. Ponyboy can be extremely charming when he wants to be. Mostly he's too timid, though.

We only wait for a few minutes before someone comes out to get us and leads us into a room. The doctor, who Ponyboy introduces as "Doctor K," is a young, handsome man who looks like he should be modeling in magazines instead of cutting casts off kids. He looks around my age, but I know he must be older than me. I look older than me.

"Take a seat," he says. Ponyboy lifts himself up on the bed.

"How's the leg feeling?"

"It's good," Ponyboy says softly. "No pain."

"Good," Doctor K says. "All right, let's do this." He strolls across the room and comes back with a small machine that looks like a saw. I have only broken one bone in my life and I remember being terrified that the blade would cut me on accident. I had tried to convince my mom that the cast could stay on for a while longer.

"Now this thing looks scary," Doctor K says, "But don't worry. It can't cut skin."

To demonstrate, he turns the thing on and presses it against his skin. The blade stops spinning.

"See?" he asks, turning it off. "It sounds like a drill, but it's just all the noise that's scary."

I glance at Ponyboy and see that he's gone deathly pale. His knuckles are white, his hands gripping the side of the bed. He looks like he might pass out.

"Pone?" I ask. "Are you okay?"

He barely nods, not looking away from the saw. "I just…"

Without a warning, he gags and doubles over before he throws up on the tile floor. I jump quickly, hands hovering over him even though there's nothing I can do.

He wipes the back of his hand across his mouth and takes a few shaky breaths before he pulls himself up.

"I'm sorry," he whispers.

"That's all right," Doctor K says gently. He sets down the drill and then motions to someone outside. A second later, a nurse comes in and shoos us away to another room while she cleans up the mess. Ponyboy apologizes to her.

"Are you feeling sick?" Doctor K asks as Ponyboy gets situated on the new bed. He shakes his head, but I eye him suspiciously.

"Ponyboy."

"I'm not," he says weakly. "I just…" He shudders and rubs his arms. "I don't know what happened."

Doctor K takes Ponyboy's wrist and feels his pulse. "Are you hypoglycemic?"

"I don't know what that is," Ponyboy says, swallowing hard.

"Do you get low blood sugar?"

Ponyboy shakes his head and Doctor K sets his wrist down.

"Well, if you wanna wait to do this, that's okay. We can reschedule."

"No!" Ponyboy says quickly. "I wanna get this over with. Just…just do it. I'm okay."

Doctor K looks up at me, waiting for an answer, and I nod. "You can go for it."

He looks a little hesitant, but he brings out another saw. Ponyboy shoves his hands over his eyes and holds his breath.

"Ready?" Doctor K asks. Ponyboy nods and the saw turns on.

I put a hand on his arm for comfort. The blade starts into the cast, vibrating back and forth to break through the plaster. Ponyboy goes stiff.

"Breathe," I remind him. "Deep breath. It's not gonna hurt you."

He nods, but his body is still tense. I look at him closely and realize there are tears leaking out from under his hands. I throw an arm around his shoulder and keep him close. His body is shaking, but he's quiet. Doctor K glances up at me nervously and I give him another nod, telling him to keep going.

It takes somewhere around five minutes of buzzing before the saw finally turns off and Ponyboy finally breathes normally. The cast is gone. His leg is free.

"We're done," Doctor K says softly, putting the saw away. "Are you okay?"

Ponyboy lowers his hands and nods. His eyes are red and puffy, tears still resting on his cheeks.

"Look," I say. "The cast is gone."

He shakes his head, though. "I don't want to," he whispers.

"There's no damage from the break," Doctor K says. "The only thing that looks different is the color. The skin is new and delicate, so it will look weird for a while. You should take a look, Ponyboy. You've been wanting that cast off for a long time."

Ponyboy's lips tremble and he sobs. "I can't."

I cup the back of his head and pull him into my chest, holding him close.

"I'll give you a few minutes," Doctor K says, and then excuses himself, leaving us alone.

"What's wrong, Ponyboy?" I ask. Ponyboy sniffs back tears, nearly wheezing.

"I just–I thought…it felt like…" He shakes his head and lets out a sound between a sob and a laugh. "I'm such a baby."

I let go of him so he can wipe his face. "You're not a baby," I say. "You're just a little spooked. Don't worry about it. Are you okay?"

"I'm okay," he says softly. He sniffs again and looks down at his leg, making a face. "My leg looks gross."

I smile.

XxX

Doctor K wraps my leg to help the swelling and gives me instructions about physical therapy and how to build up strength in my joints. He tells me bruising and stiffness will probably happen, but they won't last long. Most importantly, he tells me, is to make sure I'm not putting too much pressure on the bone. So my crutches become part of me again.

"You don't have to do this," Darry says for the millionth time as we pull up to the school and stop.

I sigh. "I'm fine, Darry. I just freaked out a little."

"You threw up all over the place."

"Thanks for the image," I mutter. "I'm fine. I promise. School will help me get my mind off things."

Darry taps his fingers on the steering wheel and glances out the window. "I don't know, Pone."

"Darry, it's just school," I say. "And Two-Bit will watch over me. That's what you pay him to do."

"I don't pay him," Darry says. I roll my eyes.

"Sure you don't."

Darry turns back to me with a glare, a smile pulling on his lips. "All right, get out of my truck."

I grin at him and push open the door, mindful to slide my bandaged leg out without hitting anything. I'm supposed to be elevating and icing my leg, not going to school. And I think Darry knows that, but he's letting me go anyway.

He jumps out and hurries over to my side of the truck, helping me step out and get situated with the crutches and my backpack.

"If you want to go home, just tell Two-Bit and he'll call me, okay?" Darry says. I nod.

"I'll be fine, Darry. Stop worrying."

"Don't parent me, kid," he says. "Ice your leg when you get home. That doctor would kill me if he knew I let you go to school."

"Bye, Darry," I say, moving away from him.

I can almost feel him rolling his eyes.

XxX

I've missed first period and half of second period. My friends catch me in the hall and ask how I'm doing, ask about my leg and why I'm still on crutches. Two-Bit meets me at my locker and walks with me to third period. He gushes about all the things I get to do with my cast off, and I give him a weary smile. I'm still nervous about it.

The Socs in my class whisper and glance at me like they have been for the past couple weeks, but I try to ignore them. Michael shoots me glares and suspicious smiles that make my heart skip beats. It doesn't even matter that Steve beat the crap out of him. He still freaks me out.

I get through the class unscathed and it isn't until I'm leaving that everything seems to fall apart. Because it takes me a few moments to gather my stuff and get out the door, I'm submerged into a rush of students that I normally would beat if I could move faster.

I don't see Two-Bit and assume he's probably stuck in this crowd somewhere.

As I scan over people's heads for him, someone runs into my shoulder and I stumble, catching myself quickly.

"Jeez," I mutter, and then someone else hits me. I'm pushed further into the middle of the hallway and am hit from both sides by multiple people trying to shove me over. I know these are Socs. Greasers wouldn't think it was okay to push a kid on crutches, especially one of their own kind.

I'm trying to maneuver back toward the lockers and safety when it happens. Someone passes me and hits my leg. And not just hits, _kicks_. Hard. As if they know doing so will cause me great pain.

And it does.

My vision swirls in front of me for a second and I'm faintly aware of the crutches slipping from my grip. The pain floods through my leg and up my chest, catching hold of my breath and squeezing it out of me.

Everything goes black.


End file.
